Hunger
by Rothelena
Summary: Contains SPOILERS from the promo for 5.01! Jane actually feels guilty for what he did in this story- does that make it an AU? Awww, not quite, I think...PWP, smutty, so rated M, M, M for adult situations... the usual!


_This is totally PWP, smutty, and if you want to, you could find it terribly OOC, I guess- decide for yourself. I wrote this to catapult me out of writer's block and didn't really want to post it, but now it's written and I'm again not properly ashamed._

_Thanks to my friend Kath, who inspired me to write this by writing me messages with dirty ideas in them… it had the effect you wanted, dear ;D! Thanks for always being there for me when I need a shoulder to cry or lean on to!__ For endless encouragement, hours of beta-reading, always answering my questions, reading my work, telling me what you think, being the rock in the ocean of my hysteria..._You're one of my closest friends, and I never cease to be grateful that you are in my life!

_Thanks to Andrea (MerriWyllow), who wrote a MIND-BLOWINGLY BEAUTIFUL story for me, and makes me survive this month by simply talking to me, encouraging me, understanding me, and not at all treating me like the crazy madwoman I undoubtedly am. You're one of the authors I always read in awe, admire to no end, look up to from my little keyboard, always hoping that I will aspire one day to what you already are… when you say something nice about my scribbling, it makes my entire YEAR._

_Thanks to Wldwmn, who almost always reviews first, always leaves in-depth feedback, always makes me feel capable and competent when I'm so close to throwing my laptop out of the window- I can't say how much I appreciate it! It's your fault that I'm still here… without you, I would have stopped trying long ago._

_Thanks to Liz who writes the kinkiest, H-O-T-T-E-S-T smut there is and shows that it is possible to combine that with deep, honest feelings, who gives me inspiration and kicks my ass when I'm down! Reading your stuff always kills my writer's block._

_Thanks to UnhealthyViewingHabits for always saying the right thing at the right time, YulianaHenderson for her perfect imagination (your stories set a whole new world in motion) and her contagious enthusiasm!_

_Lat but not least, thanks to EVERYONE who bothers to leave a review- you make me believe that at the end of the day, I'm doing something right here!_

_Dealing with you makes me happy- you are a big part of why I love fan fiction so much!_

_THANK YOU!_

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Mentalist, and I don't make money from fan fiction._

_I hope the English is okay, I DID revise it, but I just wanted to get it out there before I changed my mind about posting it, so I did everything rather fast. I apologize for my mistakes!_

_Oh- I DID mention that this is PWP, didn't I? Fine- this takes place right after their "I'm not your girlfriend…"-fight, by the way._

_It's written from Jane's point of view- sorry! It's her turn next, I swear!_

**Hunger**

Lisbon stormed into her office and tried to slam the door behind her, but Jane followed her immediately, cursing the giant soft spot he undoubtedly had for his sweet superior.

He just couldn't leave her like this, angry and hurting, the pain inside her so strong he could feel it almost as if it were his own.

He shut the door behind him, hardly making a sound, concentrating on the movement to calm his upset mind. He turned the lock, just to be on the safe side, they both weren't ready for company now. The blinds were closed. Good.

Her slim back was to him, she was clearly trying to shut him out, will him to go away. Well, she would have no luck tonight. He couldn't leave now. Just couldn't.

When she finally turned and looked at him, her huge, shimmering eyes were lost and sad. They made his stomach clench, sending a piercing ache through his heart. With a shuddering breath he realized just how scared she was of losing him.

It made him feel elated and ashamed at the same time, gave him a worth he had never claimed. She looked so beautiful and pure, almost innocent, like an elf-like being caught in a world that could nothing but hurt her. He saw her steel her face, straightening to weather the storm, and didn't want it, wanted her to scream and rant at him, even hit him, hurt him. Hurt him as bad as he deserved.

He approached her carefully, knowing full well she was like a wounded animal at the moment- if he caused her more pain, she wouldn't let him get close. And he needed to get closer, desperately, his hands were itching to touch her.

"You know that I can never be truly happy again while Red John walks the face of the earth, don't you?"

He saw her face soften. His happiness meant far more to her than her own, he had always known that, but it hurt to see the truth right before his eyes. She was too good for him, and he had no right to ask for her love. Her gift to him was so enormous he would struggle a lifetime to repay it.

He came closer, making her retreat until the backs of her thighs hit the edge of her desk, his body close enough to feel her heat. How would her skin feel against his? He had to know.

"Nobody else can make her talk, Teresa," he continued, his voice soft and whispery, "and I can only build on what Loralei and I shared with each other."

He saw her flinch before her features changed into a fiery death glare. He almost smiled. So jealous, his beautiful fairy. He felt loved whenever he saw the passion flare in her gaze, and her love made a somebody out of him, gave him an essence, the right to exist. It all came down to her, and he had long known it, struggling to keep it a secret even from himself.

"Do you really think she means something to me?" He sighed, his breath flowing against her mouth, so red and full and tempting.

He knew that she could taste him, saw her lips tremble when she licked them in obvious delight.

"Do you want me, agent Lisbon?" he whispered hoarsely.

"No."

He smiled.

"Liar. You're such a poor liar, my sweet. I could name a hundred ways in which your face and body are telling the truth while your lips lie to me. Do you want me, agent Lisbon?"

She closed her eyes, her beauty washed over him like a spell, half curse, half blessing. He wanted to kiss her eyelids, held back at the last second.

"Yes." She breathed, but when she opened her eyes, he saw that he hadn't defeated her.

Her gaze was willful and fierce, and it made him hard in an instant.

"Do you think I want nothing but your body, Patrick Jane?"

He shrugged.

"It's all I can give you, Teresa. I can't give you my heart. Because it's already yours."

He took care to speak factual, matter-of-factly. This weren't sappy, sugarcoated niceties designed to win control over her, he didn't want to sound sweet and romantic.

It was nothing but the naked, cold truth, a truth that could get both of them killed, but it stayed true, and dammit, she deserved to know. He had lied to her a million times, but this once, he wouldn't spare her anything.

"I can give you my body," he said," if you want it."

He was so close now, the tiny hairs on his skin seemed to reach out to her, fighting to diminish the distance between them.

His voice was barely there when he spoke again.

"Do you want me, agent Lisbon?"

She slanted her head, offering her lips. He came only a little closer, his mouth almost touching hers. His whole body was as taut as a bowstring, and suddenly he felt aflame with lust, so hungry it almost made him cry out, he needed her touch to wash away the imprint of the other woman's hands, they had felt cool and lifeless on his skin, and he had numbed himself to be able to do what had to be done. This was different, his heart was thundering in his chest, pumping hot surges of desire through his veins with every beat.

He wanted her to teach him where his home was.

"Show me who's man I am, Teresa," he begged, " you can use me any way you want. I give you the right to touch me, own me to your heart's desire- I trust you like no one else, and you know it. But I need to do these interrogations my way. Do you trust me, Teresa?"

"You know I do."

He shuddered. It was the first time she had just stated it like a fact, no "within reason", no declaration of his general untrustworthiness. She trusted him, just like that.

"Show me."

God, he ached for her. His erection pulsed inside his pants like it hadn't in a lifetime, for the first time since Red John had entered his life he just wanted to fuck, it made him feel hot and alive, the feelings urgent and irresistible. He was almost surprised, Lisbon was tough and no-nonsense, she had never tried the weapons of female seduction on him, she was clear, straightforward, totally different from every other woman he had ever met.

That she could tempt him like this, arouse him like no other with just a word, just a subtle flutter of her luscious lips, scared him a little. She made him feel things that ripped him open, laid him bare, made him so utterly, totally vulnerable he felt like a shivering pile of raw flesh, ready to be dissected by her.

She extended her small hands, hands that didn't hesitate, their touch firm and uncompromising, and put them on the hot tube of his hard-on, learning his dimensions, his hardness, the strength of his lust. He stared at her in fascination, his whole body twitching every time she tightened her grip. He dropped every barrier, made himself soft, pliant, want coursing through him like a steady stream.

"Show me." He repeated.

She slid her hands between his legs, his breath caught in his throat, and she went on tiptoe, claiming his lips in a ruthless kiss.

She pushed her tongue into his mouth, firm and hot, and he sucked on it, grateful, hungry, his cock so hard now it bordered on pain. He almost couldn't bear it any longer, so he wrapped his arms around her and subtly rubbed his aching erection against her stomach. It felt so good his knees buckled, he moaned into her mouth, barely swallowing the cry of frustration when she broke the kiss and slid down onto her knees in front of him, her breath so hot he felt it graze his throbbing length through his clothes.

He became frantic, knew he could never ask this of her.

"No…" he gasped, but she interrupted him immediately.

"My call, Jane. You're not allowed to veto my wishes."

A desperate groan rumbled from his chest, he threw his head back, sounds and touches directing his senses, the metallic click of his belt, the lowering of his zipper, maddeningly slow, her hands sliding into his underwear, fingernails raking through his pubic hair, almost making him come on the spot.

Lisbon pushed his pants and boxers down, and he felt himself spring free from the torturous confines, her mouth there to meet him, kissing the tip of his cock with her rich, downy soft lips. He wanted to scream, wanted to writhe, his trembling fingers groped blindly for something, anything to hold on to, and he whimpered when he felt her hands on his, gently placing them on her head.

Her hair was so soft beneath his palms, he wrapped the silky strands around his fingers, pulling softly, making her look at him.

She swallowed him halfway with a sexy, slurping sound, her huge eyes staring right into his, and he knew he absolutely couldn't survive that for long. Tears started streaming down his face, strange lights sparkled in her gaze, like tiny stars, shooting through the nightly sky for him to make a wish.

But he only wished for her.

She took him deeper, his hard shaft sliding over heavenly heat, soft and warm at the same time, and when she sucked on him with all her might, her tongue pressing his glans against her gums, he came like mad, biting his lip until he tasted blood to keep from screaming, spurt after spurt of hot seed shooting into her mouth, an endless river of warm liquid. She drank all of him, producing greedy, blissed-out sounds that rippled around his cock, it drove him insane.

He tightened his hold on her head, pressed her closer, slid down her throat as deep as he could go. He noticed that she only gagged for a second before she actively took more of him into her mouth, taking him so deep her nose touched his pubic hair. He almost lost consciousness, his semen wrenched from his balls by the swallowing motions of her throat around him, his hands fisting in her hair, holding her head pressed against his groin while he emptied the last drops of his seed into her mouth.

When he regained awareness of his surroundings, a hot surge of shame washed over him, and he released her immediately. His shaft, still hard enough to drive nails, slid out of her mouth, now swollen from her exertions, which made it look even hotter.

"Oh god," he stammered, "I'm… Teresa, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"

She rose to her full height immediately and stilled him with a passionate kiss. He tasted a hint of himself on her tongue, not unpleasant, sweetish, slightly salty. He accepted her hunger, her desire like a gift, a punishment, he would do whatever she asked of him, no matter what.

"I love you," he whispered into her mouth, and it sounded far less outrageous than he would have thought, almost natural, the need for truth overwhelming his fear, "I love you so much. If I ever lose you…"

She stuffed his mouth with her tongue, stopping every thought in his mind, making him shiver all over.

When she broke away, his lips kept searching for hers, begging her to return until he felt her eyes on his skin, hot and urgent, full of hunger and need and lust.

She undressed slowly, without artful swirls, effectively, without hesitation. But her glowing eyes never left his, her gaze was smoldering, his cock ached for her, the pain of longing so strong he almost doubled over.

He was still dressed, nothing but his pants and underwear pushed down, when she stood in front of him, completely naked, as beautiful as a fairy tale being. Pale, creamy skin, subtly freckled, her breasts firm, just big enough to fill his palms, nipples rosy pink like the prettiest of flowers. Her stomach was so flat, so tight, her hips flaring out in a gentle curve from her incredibly slim waist.

He swallowed, and felt how his desire for her gave her power, he fed her more, allowing his lust to pour out of his eyes, letting her see every ounce of his insane need for her.

She sat down on the top of her desk, her body as lithe and graceful as a ballet dancer's. His gaze slid to her mound, covered by a sparse dusting of dark pubic hair. His shaft gave an utterly painful lurch, telling its intent beyond all doubts.

She crooked her finger at him, beckoning him to come closer, and he obeyed, his slacks around his knees restraining his movements. When he was close enough, she hooked her legs behind his buttocks, pulling him so close his length nudged her wet flesh. Her fingers spread her folds for him, the skin pale and rosy, and he let his head fall back on a groan.

Lisbon was clearly taking control now, her hands fisting in his hair, pulling his head forward, forcing his mouth into a wild kiss. He loved it, welcomed it, almost hoped she would be really mean to him, slap him around, punish him. He knew he deserved it, that his guilt included the small, strong woman in front of him as much as it did his family.

He groaned into her kiss, and when she pushed her hands beneath his shirt to scratch over his back, so hard he could feel the welts forming, his whole body twitched in bliss and gratitude.

Her legs, still loosely wrapped around his waist, held him close, but she didn't allow him to enter her, his burning length just barely penetrating her wet, infinitely soft sex, and when he tried to push into her, she put her hand against his stomach to keep him at bay. He moaned in frustration, the sound flowing out into one of unmistakable arousal when she dragged her fingernails over his taut belly, letting them slide down until she could wrap her hand around his cock, failing to span him completely. He could hardly muster his voice.

"Tell me how, Teresa."

"Hard." She said. "Deep. Thorough. I don't have time for niceties."

He nodded, his face felt hot, almost fevered.

When he averted his gaze, Lisbon stopped him, putting a hand beneath his chin to make him look at her.

"You know I love you, Jane, don't you?"

He nodded obediently, and it was the absolute truth, but his heart felt warm and heavy all of a sudden. She had never told him. He shouldn't accept her gift, but he wanted it so, so much, it would be the only thing that could keep him alive, there was nothing in the world he needed more than her.

He knew in that fateful instance that he would give up Red John if she demanded it. To keep her. That she could make him abandon what had driven him for a decade when she really set her mind to it. It would leave him crippled, lost, but he would not be able to deny her anything.

Her voice slashed into his thoughts.

"We'll get him. I'll make sacrifices. I proved that in the past, didn't I? I'm here, Jane. I don't have to like it, but I'm here. With you. I'll fight for you. Don't shut me out."

And while he was still wondering how in hell she had managed to read his mind, she pulled him close with her legs, guiding his shaft inside her in a single, fluid motion.

He could hardly get it into her.

His first impulse was to rear back, afraid of hurting her, for she was much, much too tight for this, her flesh resisting him despite her thorough wetness.

"Teresa," he gasped, "maybe we should go sl…"

"No." she interrupted him harshly, raising her stubborn little chin at him, it made her look incredibly young, so young he could only stare at her for a moment.

He was a little surprised that she wasn't easy and pliant, ready to be seduced by him, but instead rather demanding and assertive, showing him a firm hand he hadn't expected from her. She was a tough cop, no doubt, but he had expected a certain submissiveness in the bedroom. It aroused him that he had been wrong. After all the time she had protected him like a little child, like an annoying brother, she was now willing to take him as a lover, without compromises, accept the good and the bad, the mingle of black and white he had become over the years. She would just take from him what she wanted, and it was exactly what he needed from her, for she had filled him with so much warmth that he now felt able to give again.

She tightened her legs around his waist, it made him hot, his shaft throbbing madly against her snug walls.

"Yes, Ma'am," he breathed roughly, panting into her face, and she smiled at him, smug and triumphant.

He understood that he had underestimated her, an unforgivable mistake, but then he had always been a little arrogant and full of himself, his biggest flaw.

She wasn't the helpless victim of her love and compassion, in fact they made her stronger, made people like him willing to surrender everything for her, even he, the incorrigible bastard. Cities fell at her feet, he had no doubt about it, fell for her soulful eyes and the tender, but firm touch of her hands.

He smiled through the tears of arousal and felt almost a little proud of his ability to satisfy her, bring forth such a smile, sated with the wishes he was about to fulfill. She knew it, could no doubt see that he was ready, willing, about to melt for her, just this night. He would never be able to lie to her again, but it was worth it. Love had always been worth it.

She pulled him even closer, using her strong thighs to bring him into her balls-deep. It felt like being caught in a fiery trap, her sheath hugged him like a too tight glove, her warmth so excruciating he cried out in an exquisite outburst of ecstatic pleasure.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, and for once, he wasn't lying, needed to tell her that now, as long as he was open and vulnerable, the mask he usually wore gone.

"It hurt." He could still see the pain in her eyes, how she had felt when she had heard him kissing a suspect, a killer's minion, another woman. He had hurt her principles as much as the hot-blooded, loving woman inside her.

"I'm so sorry." He repeated, but he knew he couldn't promise her not to do it again. Hoped she wouldn't ask that of him, because he guessed that he would do it.

And he couldn't. Couldn't let go of Red John.

"Sorry." His voice sounded small and torn now, and she kissed him, adding the throb of his tongue against hers to the sharp pulsing sensation between his legs, where he was trapped inside her body, the sensations so urgent he almost lost his mind.

"Fuck me." She sighed into his mouth, and something inside him roared like a lion, the sound rumbling all through his system.

He grabbed her hips, felt her loosen the clutch of her thighs a bit to give him room for thrusting, and when he pulled back, it felt as wonderfully madness-inducing as pushing in had. He mustered every ounce of strength he could find, cradled her buttocks in his hands, and started to take her like she wanted to be taken.

His rhythm was fast, hard, he was stronger than he looked, the considerable resistance of her body a challenge he couldn't resist. It was a heady sensation when she cried out, opened up to him, his flesh slapping against hers, the sounds wet and sexy, underlined by his grunts of mind-blowing pleasure.

She felt so good around him, her walls hugging him tight every time he slammed into her, right up to the hilt, until he hit a barrier deep inside her he couldn't surmount. He angled her hips and shoved his cock even deeper, making a shudder ripple through her body that told him she was unbearably close. He pounded into her, her whole desk rattling and creaking beneath her, his hammering rhythm making her slim body bounce with the sheer force of his strokes.

He could tell the exact second she unraveled, her mouth falling open in an almost surprised "O", her body reclining until she had to stretch out her arms behind her for support, her stomach muscles contracting so sharply he could see them tense under her skin. Her sheath grew even tighter around him, strangling his cock in a murderous death-grip, and it would have been so easy to give in this very moment, let her milk him dry in a rush of foaming heat.

But Patrick Jane fought, his thrusts getting harsh and erratic, his eyes firmly closed, teeth gritted to fight a climax he could already taste on his tongue. It was a close call, but he managed to regain control of his body, prolonging her orgasm with sharp, deep strokes of his cock, making her writhe with pleasure.

He took several deep breaths and resumed his rampant staccato, taking her as hard as he could, the delicious ripples of her aftershocks making him cry out with every thrust.

"Come for me." She whispered.

He shook his head, felt his sweat pool in the nape of his neck before it ran down his chest, plastering his shirt to the skin.

"Not yet."

He saw her smile, arching her body into his thrusts, and he managed to pick up speed once again, aiming to set her aflame with his hammering strokes. Her walls caressed him into certain delirium, every nerve ending screaming his need to explode inside her, flood her with his seed. He resisted. More sweat was dripping from his chin, or maybe the large drops were tears.

"You will." He heard her voice as if from a great distance, and when he felt her fingernails on his stomach, he instantly erupted like a volcano. His whole body became rigid, he buried himself inside her hot sex to the hilt and allowed the wave of his release to crash over him. He came like mad, the spurts so long and violent it felt as if he ejaculated a steady river, the sensations so acute he could hardly remain upright.

He felt himself filling her up until his seed flowed over, soaking their skin, their pubic hair, running down her buttocks to pool on her desk.

In this moment, he forgot everything, all pretense gone, his existence reduced to her cries of pleasure when she unraveled again. He reached between them and rubbed her straining clit, trying to make her come harder, kissing her to swallow her screams when they became too loud, loud enough to be overheard from the hallway.

He filled her mouth with her tongue, and she kissed him back eagerly while he emptied the last spurts of seed inside her, until he felt thoroughly drained and exhausted, collapsing in her arms. She straightened and wrapped her arms around him, and he melted into her embrace, grateful that he had found her, that she still didn't hate him after all he had done.

When they separated and moved to get dressed, he felt thoroughly bereft for a moment, almost unable to go on, keep up the lies and deception he surrounded himself with. It took him a while to reassemble the mask he showed the world, his portray of devil-my-care, mischievous arrogance.

When he turned back to face her, she was dressed again and looked at him calmly, almost a little curious, her wavy dark hair framing her heart-shaped face, her lips thoroughly swollen from his kisses. She was breathtakingly beautiful, the most desirable woman he knew. He would be hers to the end of time, and the thought scared him on a level deep enough to make him shudder. He had sworn to never love like this again, and he had done pretty well until she had caught him by surprise, had made his feelings for her explode into his face.

"I love you." He said.

Her eyes were bottomless, speaking of all the pain she had suffered, would suffer in the future, the deep, honest love for him that made her go on, made her reach beyond her limits just to save him.

Her voice was soft and sad at the same time.

"Whenever I want you, you'll be there."

He nodded.

"Yes. "

She sat down in her chair, crossing her legs, her face so calm and strong he felt himself stirring inside his pants. He just hoped it wouldn't be too long until she summoned him again.

"I want you in a bed next," she said, "stark naked. Soon. Be prepared."

He smiled, bowed slightly in an affectionate show of obedience and slowly walked to the door, opening it with the quiet concentration that gave him the iron control over his mind. He looked at her over his shoulder just before he left her office, his voice firm and gentle at the same time.

"I'll be ready for you. Always."

**The End**

_Okay, that was just a harmless little piece of smut, I hope you liked it! Tell me if you did, please!_


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